Your Character's Name: Cupid
Breakfast was blissfully uneventful. I ate with Tony and the guys (Calvin and Bartre) and everyone was happy. Tony and I were talking about the composition and function of the world. We were talking about things that matter and I realized he had single handedly restored my faith in order and reason and purposefulness.
And Calvin had to destroy it again and get us banished from this paradise, not through over zealous consumption of the fruit of knowledge, but from an underdeveloped ability to shut his damn mouth that resulted in him getting an actual knife to his throat and my getting a metaphorical one through my heart as we were forced to abandon this place and head back into the luminiferous ether.
I hate this place. The air is an oily slick filling my lungs. Contaminating the entirety of me with its nauseating filth. I feel more walled in now than I could have possibly ever back at my beautiful lab. Its so much more than just not finding anything I wished for, its realizing the wishing was idiotic that hurts the most. Apathy is a force of nature. Emptiness is a force of nature. I am closer now than I have ever been to understanding peoples’ justifications for suicide, but still feel the whole of the action is pointless. But then how can I say I understand if my mindset as a whole towards it hasn’t changed? I have always found social issues to be most contradictory and puzzling. Someone can claim to fully understand an issue and yet disagree with it. As if to say there is no right and wrong when society’s history is riddled with rules for any imaginable situation. Complex situations can be divided and simplified back down to their most basic components and analyzed from there. Nice, neat, well connected and defined. Why do people try to make things more complicated?
After walking for what feels like days we find a weathered though intact shed amongst more complete rubbles of buildings. The only things that stand out to me anymore are the places that aren’t completely destroyed. How beautiful and poetic. Barter would think so anyways. It seems like something that would pour out of his head like the rest of what he produces or regurgitates from somewhere in there.
Calvin and Bartre tried to open it but it was locked. It was the sort of door that opens at the bottom and slides up. They use to be popular for something in the time before because they could be fitted with a motor to open with the push of a button. I don’t remember what they are now, they had their function in their name though. I’m fairly certain of that.
I was unlocking the door when I burst of gunfire obliterated the quiet in my mind and sent adrenalin surging through my body. As I was finishing, Calvin and Bartre flung up the door and shut it behind us. We hid in the darkness and shook. Well, I hid in the darkness and shook. I could hear my pulse in my ears and I clasped my hands over my mouth to muffle the sounds of my erratic, whimpering breathing. I don’t know what I was so scared of. I’m not afraid to die. Not really. It’s the promise of pain that gets to me I guess. I don’t know if I thought I was going to die then. My life didn’t flash before my eyes or anything. I didn’t really think anything at all. My mind was just static buzz. After a time the sounds were gone, just as suddenly as they had come and Bartre and Calvin scavenged the place. I didn’t care to. I was content sitting by the door watching out into the nothing and waiting to see if we were going to sleep here or keep moving. Calvin found a locked chest, so I opened it for him. Funny that the most useful way to use my vast sum of knowledge is to help my friends take things that don’t belong to them. I doubt anyone in this world cares anyways. The chest is probably full of things that someone else stole in the first place. Who knows how many times this stuff changed hands. I guess mankind was just being held upright instead of being upright themselves. Why should I be any different then.
In the chest was a gun and a war medal. Even if they were stolen, the metal was originally made with purpose. For someone in particular. Someone who was a hero. Someone who saved someone, or maybe a lot of someones. Now it is left to rot into nothing in this place. There isn’t anything else here. Calvin takes the gun. I take the metal. I can’t bring myself to abandon it amongst the rubble. It was important once, and this doesn’t seem a fitting tomb. We’ve already defiled it, who knows how many more there are to come.
I have a feeling I’m going to sleep without dreams tonight. I’m going to sleep lightly before and after my watch. All I can think is “ I don’t know who you are, forgotten hero. I don’t know what happened to you, but I will do my best to keep this little part of you safe. I shudder to think of what might have happened to the rest of you.”
Someday maybe I’ll find a place to lay this metal to rest. I can’t explain exactly why this feels so important to me. But it is the first thing in a while that has.
And it was a garage, by the way, the shed like building we found. I remembered. The doors were called garage doors.
Breakfast was blissfully uneventful. I ate with Tony and the guys (Calvin and Bartre) and everyone was happy. Tony and I were talking about the composition and function of the world. We were talking about things that matter and I realized he had single handedly restored my faith in order and reason and purposefulness.
And Calvin had to destroy it again and get us banished from this paradise, not through over zealous consumption of the fruit of knowledge, but from an underdeveloped ability to shut his damn mouth that resulted in him getting an actual knife to his throat and my getting a metaphorical one through my heart as we were forced to abandon this place and head back into the luminiferous ether.
I hate this place. The air is an oily slick filling my lungs. Contaminating the entirety of me with its nauseating filth. I feel more walled in now than I could have possibly ever back at my beautiful lab. Its so much more than just not finding anything I wished for, its realizing the wishing was idiotic that hurts the most. Apathy is a force of nature. Emptiness is a force of nature. I am closer now than I have ever been to understanding peoples’ justifications for suicide, but still feel the whole of the action is pointless. But then how can I say I understand if my mindset as a whole towards it hasn’t changed? I have always found social issues to be most contradictory and puzzling. Someone can claim to fully understand an issue and yet disagree with it. As if to say there is no right and wrong when society’s history is riddled with rules for any imaginable situation. Complex situations can be divided and simplified back down to their most basic components and analyzed from there. Nice, neat, well connected and defined. Why do people try to make things more complicated?
After walking for what feels like days we find a weathered though intact shed amongst more complete rubbles of buildings. The only things that stand out to me anymore are the places that aren’t completely destroyed. How beautiful and poetic. Barter would think so anyways. It seems like something that would pour out of his head like the rest of what he produces or regurgitates from somewhere in there.
Calvin and Bartre tried to open it but it was locked. It was the sort of door that opens at the bottom and slides up. They use to be popular for something in the time before because they could be fitted with a motor to open with the push of a button. I don’t remember what they are now, they had their function in their name though. I’m fairly certain of that.
I was unlocking the door when I burst of gunfire obliterated the quiet in my mind and sent adrenalin surging through my body. As I was finishing, Calvin and Bartre flung up the door and shut it behind us. We hid in the darkness and shook. Well, I hid in the darkness and shook. I could hear my pulse in my ears and I clasped my hands over my mouth to muffle the sounds of my erratic, whimpering breathing. I don’t know what I was so scared of. I’m not afraid to die. Not really. It’s the promise of pain that gets to me I guess. I don’t know if I thought I was going to die then. My life didn’t flash before my eyes or anything. I didn’t really think anything at all. My mind was just static buzz. After a time the sounds were gone, just as suddenly as they had come and Bartre and Calvin scavenged the place. I didn’t care to. I was content sitting by the door watching out into the nothing and waiting to see if we were going to sleep here or keep moving. Calvin found a locked chest, so I opened it for him. Funny that the most useful way to use my vast sum of knowledge is to help my friends take things that don’t belong to them. I doubt anyone in this world cares anyways. The chest is probably full of things that someone else stole in the first place. Who knows how many times this stuff changed hands. I guess mankind was just being held upright instead of being upright themselves. Why should I be any different then.
In the chest was a gun and a war medal. Even if they were stolen, the metal was originally made with purpose. For someone in particular. Someone who was a hero. Someone who saved someone, or maybe a lot of someones. Now it is left to rot into nothing in this place. There isn’t anything else here. Calvin takes the gun. I take the metal. I can’t bring myself to abandon it amongst the rubble. It was important once, and this doesn’t seem a fitting tomb. We’ve already defiled it, who knows how many more there are to come.
I have a feeling I’m going to sleep without dreams tonight. I’m going to sleep lightly before and after my watch. All I can think is “ I don’t know who you are, forgotten hero. I don’t know what happened to you, but I will do my best to keep this little part of you safe. I shudder to think of what might have happened to the rest of you.”
Someday maybe I’ll find a place to lay this metal to rest. I can’t explain exactly why this feels so important to me. But it is the first thing in a while that has.
And it was a garage, by the way, the shed like building we found. I remembered. The doors were called garage doors.